


In love with a Priest

by Mandy_Moore



Category: Catholicism - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 15:59:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13550709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandy_Moore/pseuds/Mandy_Moore
Summary: Work in progress, just getting some thoughts out





	In love with a Priest

Her mother’s church was very, very old. She’d read somewhere that the priest’s bones who’d founded it three centuries earlier still lied there. He’d been butchered and scalped by the Natives of this land, over some dispute with French colonizers. She was instantly attracted to the the church’s gilded architecture and beautiful stained glass windows. They depicted vividly colored images of the saints, many of whom had fallen to obscurity. She’d gaze at them and listen to the Padre speak. It had been almost a year since she’d first seen the strange young priest at Sunday mass. He was slight of frame with wire glasses and a thick mess of brown hair. His billowing robes concealed most of his body, but beneath them he appeared to be lean and muscular. His preaching was passionate and fascinating. She didn’t agree with all that he’d said, but it seemed to her that he existed outside of time. He spoke Spanish fluently and she’d attend bilingual masses, impressed with his ability to effectively communicate with both Hispanic and English speaking parishioners alike. She’d been an atheist for most of her life, yet something within her had begun to stir. She yearned for something. She felt irritated most of the time, and empty. The hypocrisy of the world confused and angered her. Somehow she couldn’t understand morality and the rules of society. Her mother sang with the choir on Sundays, and so she’d started attending mass to visit with her. Perhaps this was in some vain attempt to re-establish their strained relationship. But now it was the priest that had her returning each week. She had became so curious about him and would listen to his sermons and ponder them. She excitedly awaited the next week she’d see him again, and when he wasn’t there she’d feel her heart sink. She’d dream of him sometimes, and knew it was inappropriate, but she couldn’t help it. She dreamt once that she was a young girl, roaming through the rectory when she’d stumbled upon his room. She’d fantasize about seducing him, about somehow luring him into a secluded part of the church, or inviting him to walk with her in the park. She’d imagine embracing him and him falling in love with her too. He’d kiss her neck and face and hair and make love to her for hours.


End file.
